Beautiful
by real-circus
Summary: After saving Togenkyo, Genjo Sanzo thinks that it's time to pay his respects to his master and father, Komyo Sanzo.


a/n: I'm _assuming _that Sanzo and gang are so done with saving Togenkyo, and now they've come (by Sanzo's orders) to Komyo Sanzo's grave outside the temple Sanzo lived in his dark childhood. 

**Beautiful**

I caught sight of my childhood tormentors praying near some other grave. I never imagined the bastards actually survived that day when the demons came…the day I left the temple. They bowed respectfully, and I smirked in my heart. Lowly monks. The purpose of my being here was obvious. There was no other reason I could find. 

They all left, and I waited, as each one dispersed, leaving me with my beloved master. The grave was slightly overgrown with grass, the cravings upon the stone faded, but I knew very well whose it belonged to. Memories flooded back to me, in a swirl rush of images. I felt the sudden urge to take up that broom I used so many years ago, to just free his grave of the fallen autumn leaves. Like he said to me long ago, _"Those leaves get everywhere!"_

His voice—I forgot how it sounded like, and his face was but a memory, lost to time. I only remembered the smile—who could ever forget that smile? The familiar scent of pot lingered around the area, an aroma only I could smell. That similar air of comfort and love still loitered about his grave, sending me back to the days of Koryu, the river drifter. To imagine that Koryu and I were the same person, yet so different in so many ways…

I loved my master, and still do, but I'll never say it…not in front of the other three at least. It would have been a major damage to my ego. They don't know what I've fucking gone through. It was enough to make me lose all emotions, let alone anger, in the process. An enemy years back found out this little weakness of mine, attempting to find a gap in my impenetrable mind. Tough luck, I'd say. He got what he deserved. 

_Stay strong, Genjo Sanzo…_

So I _did _manage to fulfill that one wish of his. There were times I failed him miserably, much to my fury and dissatisfaction, and he had always been there for me still, his voice ringing in my ears, calling me to be strong. That was the thing that helped me through the journey West. He remained in my heart, no matter how cold and stoned it got…so did Shuuei, better known to others as Rikudo. 

He was my only friend. A true friend, in my childhood, that is. I distinctively remembered feeling _hurt _and _sad _when his old fingers closed in on my throat, but I tried my utter best not to show it. He was my enemy for that moment, and one important thing I'd learnt in life was to _never _show fear in front of an enemy. Rikudo was a mere shadow of Shuuei to me. Only I knew the real Shuuei. 

I felt a touch upon my head, a familiar touch. It must have been the wind. 

My companions were getting restless. There were no women in the temple for Gojyo to hit on, and Goku was left with only greens to satisfy that bottomless pit of his. Hakkai…that smile so much like Komyo Sanzo's never seemed to get tired at all. Hell to them. They can very well die from boredom for all I care. 

_Koryu…_

…Fucking voices. The river was just next to his grave. I suppose he would've wanted it there. Steady, unwavering, confident—those were the words he used to describe the flow of water. Till today I still wonder if he was talking about…_me. _God damn, maybe he was trying to tell me something. Not that it mattered now, did it?

He saved me. And I could not defend him…

He saved me for the second time in my life—from the river where god knows what'll happen to me, and from the blasted demons. Sometimes I did wish they'd turn around and slice my life away, as they did to Komyo, but my master traded his life for mine. I guess he felt that my life was worth protecting. And so I respected his decision. I really did. That's right, the smoking, worldly, corrupted, trigger-happy, youkai-murdering bastard's grateful for what his master's done…I'm sorry to say I actually felt my heart break the four walls of ice surrounding it. 

Yeah, I was grateful, and I'm…_not_…ashamed…to say it. 

Fuck. I needed a smoke badly. Dang, ran out of them. Hell, I mean, I bet Komyo Sensei wouldn't have minded, besides, he used to smoke himself. He would have been proud. 

Digging into my robe pockets for a certain something I'd brought for my master, I plainly remembered that day…

_"…I only know how to make paper planes," he said, folding a piece of orange paper I soon got to know as origami, or something like that. _

_I wanted to question him further on that queer statement, but he sent the curious object soaring through the air, and I stood, mesmerized by that simple piece of art, contrasting beautifully with the blue of the sky. That was the only thing on earth I considered beautiful. It took the blue out of the sky…_

_It wasn't long before I cursed the beautiful object for making me fall into the river to retrieve it…Komyo Sanzo just laughed. His laughter—it took my breath away. I must have looked awfully pitiful and pathetic then. _

"From your disciple, Koryu," I said softly, making sure no one but my master heard it, as I placed an orange paper plane before the tombstone. 

Before I could return to the jeep, a strong wind swept the paper plane up, and I cursed loudly, ignoring the stares I got from the monks of the temple. I was cut off instantly when the plane soared through the air, like it had done years ago when Komyo gave it life. The sight drew comfort in every breath I took. The little plane contrasted beautifully with the sky…

Good lords, it _was_ beautiful. The most beautiful thing I've seen in a very, very long time. Obviously, when the road you were traveling on for the past few years was strewn with blood and dead bodies…

_"Beautiful, isn't it, Koryu?"_ my master said, his voice now clear to me.  

At that moment, Koryu, who had been hiding in my soul all this time, answered.

_"It is beautiful…"_

"Let's go," Sanzo said to Hakkai roughly, striding past him in a blur of robes. 

For a moment there, the man thought he'd seen those glaring violet eyes laced with wet, and those lips that poured a thousand insults and curses twisted into a fine, undeceiving smile. It was the most beautiful thing Hakkai had ever seen in a very, very long time. 

a/n: The ending was meant to be like that. It's not a subconscious repetition of the same words. Don't get it wrong. 


End file.
